Empathy
by Lizzielollipop186
Summary: This is a lengthy one-shot detailing an intimate scene between Bender and Claire in the closet where Principal Vernon takes Bender. I apologize for its length, I didn't mean for it to get so long, but it did. It's quite graphic, so readers be warned; it truly falls under the "Lemon" category. Bender/Claire.


I had learned more about myself in seven hours of detention than I had in seventeen years of living. I had learned more about empathy today than anything I'd ever learned in school.

I was on my way to the janitors' closet nearest to the front doors of the school. I didn't know for sure if that's where John was being held, but I had to try.

I was vaguely aware as I walked through the empty halls that at any moment, Vernon could catch me, but I was passed that. I was over the fear, the paranoia, of punishment. There wasn't anything they could do that I couldn't manipulate. Punishment? I'd met four beautiful people today, I could do amazing things with more detentions.

I arrived at the putrid-mint colored door. I gripped the handle, unsure of my own intentions. Why had I come to him? What did I think I would do once inside? I hadn't even considered any of it. All I knew was that I had to find him, that I had to have him to myself, even if only for fifteen minutes.

With a steady breath, I pushed down on the metal handle, allowing me access to the occupied closet. I saw John, sitting against the opposite wall, his knees up, covered by his arms. Typical bad-guy pose. Yet, in his eyes I could see surprise and (I blushingly realized) mild excitement.

"You lost?" He asked, as the door closed behind me. He really was a beautiful and fascinating creature. I wondered if he thought of me as the same. I couldn't see why. There was no real sob-story to my life. There was no real particularly attractive thing about my physical self. John's family was dysfunctional, and while his story was worth pity, he refused it.

I didn't respond. I didn't have to. I just smirked, and he smirked right back, crossing his arms in a playful manner. The look in his gentle eyes made my heart flutter, but I had learned from John to filter my emotions to my advantage. I wouldn't let him think he had gotten to me. I wouldn't let him think I was as emotionally vulnerable as I truly was. I had no real friends, I'd never had a boyfriend whom I actually loved, my parents didn't show me the attention they showed each other (even if it was negative), and my brother was in France, married with a baby on the way, having no time for me.

I envied my brother Beau in every way. I coveted the life he had. He had sort of been like me in high school, except he'd had the courage to be down-to-earth, while I was a sheep. I followed the herd, never asking questions. He saved up money when he was in high school, learning French, and was totally dedicated to moving to Paris as soon as he could. Mom and Dad mocked him and didn't believe he could do it, but I did, even if I didn't want to. He was my rock, my protection from Mom and Dad's incessant arguing. And sure enough, two months after he graduated, he informed us that he had purchased a one-way plane ticket. He was gone by the time I started my Freshman year.

I gazed at John, noticing for the first time that he could be my France. He could be what I set my mind to. He could be my chance to prove my parents wrong once and for all. My answer was John Bender.

"Well," he broke the silence, "take a seat," he extended both arms invitingly, "make yourself comfy. My decorator's on vacation, so I gotta warn ya, the place is a bit rough around the edges." _Just like you_, I thought, rolling my eyes as I wandered slowly over to him. I sat carefully so as not to allow my skirt to ride up.

His eyes never left me. He hadn't looked much anywhere else all day, to be honest. I appreciated his glances and gazes in a way I wasn't familiar with: I knew he wasn't looking at me because he thought I was "hot" or because I looked like a good lay.

"Don't you have a paper to be writing, young lady?" He smiled sarcastically _again_. I rolled my eyes _again._ I could hardly believe that after only a few hours of acquaintanceship, we had both fallen into certain behaviors around each other. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't dislike it.

I watched his smile subside into a crooked grin. He looked away, which was unexpected. Had I somehow made him blush? Feeling in control (and particularly impulsive), I leaned forward and place my lips on the side of his throat.

It lasted a brief four seconds, but the heat of his cigarette-and-salt-scented skin under my mouth twisted my stomach into knots. It took everything I had within myself to pull away before I lost control.

He turned his face to me, a look of exasperation marked his expression.

"Why'd you do that?" He asked softly. His tone was that of a different John Bender than the one I'd come to love and loathe.

"'Cause I knew you wouldn't," I replied slyly.

He smiled at me again, leaning toward me. I didn't refuse him, but I didn't meet him halfway either. I let him come to me. Finally, his lips embraced my own. My mouth went dry with nerves and I was very conscious of my inexperience, but John didn't seem to notice. He just delicately taught my lips what to do, and soon, my tongue as well.

As our tongues tasted each other's, I considered how amusing it would've been for Vernon to walk in at that moment. Where would he even begin in dolling out that punishment? He certainly couldn't give me another Saturday detention with John, who would be at this school every Saturday for two months.

I practically became addicted to the nicotine that coated John's teeth, but I couldn't stop. In fact, without thinking, I instigated further touching and exploring, beginning with his hands. I searched for them with my eyes closed, trying not to break connection. Once my hands met his, he must have understood what I wanted because he immediately tangled his fingers in my short hair.

I let my own hands rest on John's covered biceps. Their size surprised me as I had never actually seen his muscles before. Feeling them now, though, I knew John was the full "Bad Boy" package.

We continued to kiss, never parting once. My first kiss had definitely been the longest of my life. I always pictured this moment much differently. The boy in my visions had short, groomed hair. His mouth tasted like toothpaste instead of cigarettes. His family was normal, his behavior was normal. The boy I had always imagined was one I loved. I didn't know if I loved John or not yet. On some level, I did. I knew that. On another level, I didn't know him. Actually, on many levels, I didn't know him.

John moved closer to me, scooting on the floor. As he moved, so did my hands. They drifted down to his chest, large and stiff. My fingers stumbled across the buttons of his red flannel shirt. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to see John for all that he was. If he felt this muscular he had to look this muscular.

"What are you doin'?" He broke our kiss once the top button was undone. His eyes searched mine, and I wondered if I should've felt embarrassed, or at least been blushing, but I wasn't.

I just smirked, though I knew my grin was shrouded in lust. "If I don't, you won't; we went through this." He began to smile, but I stopped him, forcing our lips together once again. I worried for a split-second that I might embarrass myself by fumbling with each button for too long, but luckily, I found it to be an easy task. Seven buttons later, he shrugged out of the short-sleeved cotton, and reached behind his neck to pull his long-sleeved white shirt of as well.

I didn't stop to look just yet. I glided my fingertips over his smooth, defined pectoral muscles. With interest, I moved my hands ever so slowly over his collarbone, trailing down his arms. I felt him shiver beneath my touch, and my breath caught in response. I was causing John Bender, the same guy who earlier that day told me of his sexual endeavors, to tremble.

I pulled away from his face to get a look at him. I had never been this close to a shirtless man in person.

"Winter puts a few pounds on me," John said, biting his lips as if he were nervous. But, of course, he wasn't. He had no reason to be. He'd already made it very clear that my opinion meant nothing to him. Besides, as I allowed my eyes to marvel at his torso, I couldn't see any unnecessary weight anywhere.

I grabbed onto his neck and pulled him back to me, our mouths crashing against each other. I heard the sound of Velcro separating and I soon came to realized John was removing his leather fingerless gloves. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was also removing something: my pink blouse.

I almost wished Vernon would come in. Here John Bender, the Criminal, and Claire Standish, the Princess, both sat shirtless, their tongues entwined, and it was all on school property.

John tried to leave our kiss to look at my shirtless top half, but I stopped him. "Wait," I murmured to him. With shaky, nervous hands, I undid the back clasps on my matronly white bra. I knew my breasts were small, and probably inadequate compared to what John must have seen before.

I waited and braced myself for our lips to part and for John to get a good look at me, but instead, he put his large, warm hands on the small of my back, pulling me closer to him. I felt my breasts make contact with his chest.

Slowly and gently, he laid me on my back. The tile was cold and the shock of it made me gasp. John held himself over me, looking down, his eyes were filled with curiosity and concern.

"Did I do something?" He asked, not entirely worried about me, more just plain wondering. It didn't bother me. I didn't expect him to be particularly concerned with my feelings.

I shook my head, knowing now that my breasts were fully exposed to him now. The position I was in couldn't have been a flattering one. I tried not to think about it as I replied with, "This tile is just absolutely freezing." My tone came out much more annoyed than I had intended.

He cocked his head, the familiar smirk had returned. "I have just the thing." He plopped down next to me. I sat up, watching his every move. He handed the flannel short-sleeved shirt over to me.

"Put it on," he commanded lightly as he dropped it into my lap. I noticed he hadn't quite been able to look me in the eye. Without hesitation or question, I pulled the cotton shirt up my arms and onto my shoulders, consciously leaving it unbuttoned so John could sneak peaks where I know he wanted to.

Wasting no time, John was back over me, looking down at my face yet again. Laying on the tile this time was much easier, though I still felt its chill through the thin cotton. John and I were back to making out in no time at all, as if our whole intimate moment was a scene in a movie, and someone had paused and unpaused it.

That's when I felt something stiff press into my thigh.

Many feelings shot through me once I realized just what it was that was putting pressure on my leg. First and foremost, I felt a sudden, strong sense of panic. I had never in my entire life, felt a boy's erection. I had never even seen a boy with one. Along with the panic, however, I also felt something I didn't expect: undeniable excitement.

I didn't know what to do, so I just kept kissing him. We had reached a stalemate. John knew I felt his arousal and became uneasy and I had no idea what I wanted to do from there. I didn't know if I should run with it, as I had been all day, or reclaim my pristine attitude.

John rose on his hands above me again.

"Now," he smirked crookedly at me, "you're the one that put us in this situation. Figure it out, Cherry." Leave it to Bender to speak whatever was on his mind, no matter how uncomfortable or obvious it may be. Then, as a side note, he added, "But I don't got all day. And neither do you."

I still didn't know what to do, but at that point I _did _know what I wanted, and that was John Bender. I was in too deep now. I had exposed myself to him, I had given him my first kiss, I had felt his erection, I had worn his shirt. There was no choice left in the matter anymore; our own little Breakfast Club had taught me something crucially important: life is short.

Had Vernon walked in on this moment, he would've witnessed me, Claire Standish, a name synonymous with the word "virgin", deciding a fraction of a second that I was going to lose my virginity to John Bender in a Janitors' closet on a Saturday afternoon during detention.

But Vernon didn't walk in, so I was left to tell John my decision in my own way: I tried not to blush as I reached down and unbuttoned John's pants. I avoided his eyes, but I didn't doubt they were staring intently at me.

John didn't hesitate. Knowing my thoughts, he kicked his boots off while I pulled his zipper down. Holding himself up in a push-up position still, he switched to only one hand to be able to pull his pants down freely. With John taking over the job of undressing himself, I started on my own remaining clothes. John had just pulled one leg out of his pants while I arched my back to reach the zipper, successfully and quickly pulling it down.

John had finally gotten both legs out of his pants, despite the awkward position in which he had to do it. With a grunt, he put his other arm down on the other side of my head where it previously resided.

"Need some help there, Cherry?"

I had been trying to squirm and wiggle out of my skirt, but it proved to be quite the arduous task. I had been hoping John wouldn't notice, but evidently he did.

I accepted his offer hesitantly, nodding at him rather than saying please. In his black boxer shorts, he got onto his knees, then rocked backward onto his heels so as to grab the hem of my skirt.

Slowly, he began to tug on it. The skirt's hold on my waist gave way much easier to him than it had been for me. He had already seen my white panties earlier that day, so I couldn't quite understand why he seemed to be so excited by them once they were revealed to him. There wasn't anything particularly enticing about them anyway.

Finally, he got the skirt off. It was awkward, especially since I had to lift my legs in order for it to be possible. He leaned forward and kissed my knee as he unzipped one of my boots. It took me by surprise.

Never in a million years had I expected John Bender to be such a gentle human. He repeated the knee-kissing action with the opposite, and it made me long to have him back in my arms. I didn't think any of these things were a possibility. Yet here he was, John Bender proving me wrong, yet again.

Once both of my boots were off, leaving me dressed in white socks, white panties, and his flannel shirt, and leaving him dressed in dark socks and dark boxers, he put his hands under either of my knees.

I was very much a virgin. I could expect what was coming, but with every next step, I grew more and more nervous. I was nervous to show my body. I was nervous to be intimate with a stranger.

Staying frozen in his position with his hands under my knees and his own knees on the floor, he looked at me directly in my eyes for the first time in a while. "Are you sure about this, Cherry?"

No. No, I wasn't sure about this, but I didn't have time to get sure, and I didn't have the patience to use logic or sense. I wasn't sure about smoking grass in the library, but it worked out well for me. Even sharing my secrets wasn't so bad. All day I hadn't been sure about anything, so why start now?

I just smiled the most sincere smile I could muster.

The smile was all it took. John smiled back, before lifting my legs and separating them. I wasn't prepared to feel his hot mouth on the outside of my panties, just above my sensitive spot, but that's what happened. I gasped. I had never felt such sensation in my life. After a few moments, I felt a fluid dampen my underwear.

As a Freshman in high school after Beau had gone to France, I was quite lonely. Most of the time I couldn't even stand it. I was pretty for a Freshman though, and I looked older than my age, thus my current popularity. I had caught a few boys' eye, including that of Gus Theoson. He was a Senior, much older than me. We went together for a while and he's the one who educated me on sex. He went on and on about how the "chick gets all wet when she's hot and bothered" and continually tried to arouse me. It ever worked because I was intimidated, confused, and embarrassed. The last thing I wanted to do was wet myself in front of some guy.

Now, however, I understood everything Senior Gus Theoson ever told me about arousal.

After a few more strategically-placed kisses, John slowly began to pull my panties down, similar to the fashion in which he pulled the skirt. His nose trailed along down my leg, right behind my underwear. I shivered. Being without anything covering your personal areas in front of another person is definitely the scariest thing I thought one must ever go through.

I found it within myself to lift my legs so he could get them off from around my ankles. Once they were gone, I watched him pull down his boxers.

Upon seeing him fully naked, I swore then that there was no person on this planet that was more visually-appealing than John Bender of Shermer High School. He was muscular, olive-skinned, though upon seeing the size of his member, I was ashamed when I felt intimidated.

He arranged himself back into the push-up position he had been in earlier. Gently, he put on hand behind my right knee to lift up. I understood what he wanted and I hooked it onto his hip, then did the same with my left leg. My heart pounded the whole time. I realized doing this would make it easier for him to get to my opening, and it was as if I forgot that was part of this.

Noticing the hesitation in my eyes, John wordlessly dipped his middle finger into his mouth then moved it down to my opening.

John dropped his head down and began to kiss me like he had only fifteen minutes before. This time though, he rubbed that sensitive little nub between my legs, causing a shudder to ripple through my body. The movements of his finger were slow and agonizingly amazing.

The day, the people, the conversations, everything was just a blur. I had started this day as a princess who didn't care much about anyone except herself. I took one look at John Bender this morning and immediately hated him. Now, I was naked with him, letting him touch me somewhere I'd never been touched, feeling many things for him at once: desire, loathing, love, affection, anger, irritation. I didn't favor one feeling over the other when it came to him because they were all true and all worked to create the perfect cocktail of emotions one needed to truly understand Bender. I may have felt different things for him, but I felt them all at the same time. Although, his soft caressing of my sensitive spot clouded a lot of my senses and feelings over with desire.

Without warning, he tried to insert the finger. I stiffened, stifling a gasp. The pain had taken me by surprise.

He looked at me, biting his lip.

In that moment, I was right back to being scared. I began having second thoughts. What would I say? _Yes, John Bender, I'm sorry, but we can't ride the hobby horse now. I'm scared_.

"We can stop anytime," he whispered. The way his tough face was so distorted with concern annoyed me, just as his comment did. If all of this meant so little to him that he could just stop now and move on with his life, then I didn't know why I bothered in the first place.

I sighed, tightening my legs around his waist. "John," I looked him in the eye as best I could, "I want you. I want this. I want to live today a thousand times over again. I want Andrew to punch his father. I want Allison to try and bring out the beauty she naturally has. I want Brian to calm the hell down. Out of all the things I want, though, I don't think I've ever wanted anything as badly as I want you to know I'm more than just a pristine daughter of two rich fucks. I want you to be the one to truly know me, inside and out. If you stop here, I will never be more than what everyone thinks I-"

"Cherry, you talk too much," he cut me off, whispering directly into my ear. I could hear the smile on his voice, which relaxed me.

With that, he positioned himself, the very tip of his bare erection just barely passed the entrance.

Before he went any farther, he relaxed himself atop me, somewhat laying down on my body, but using his arm strength to keep all the weight off. He looked into my eyes. Now that his face was significantly closer to mine, I saw just how deep of a brown his eyes were. I decided focusing on them was the only was I could keep my breathing quiet and my heart rate down.

Without a countdown, a warning, or any sort of signal, John Bender broke my barrier with a slow, but swift, thrust. The pain was intense, but I caught the scream in my throat. He wasn't all the way in yet.

After waiting a moment to allow me to regain control of myself (and to adjust to the initial shock of feeling the blood seep out of me), I nodded, signaling John to go ahead and push the rest of the way in. It hurt, but not as badly. I cringed and grabbed John's back, digging my fingernails into his skins to help relieve the pain.

He pulled himself out, and then pushed himself right back in. I gasped, digging my nails in harder. I was sure I'd drawn blood right now, but no pain registered on John's solemn face. He pulled himself out, then pushed back in. It was agonizing, and I almost regretted even coming to the Janitors' closet in the first place. Just when I thought the pain would never end, though, he pulled out and pushed in, but this time, the pushing was almost painless. There were no walls about me that John Bender couldn't break.

The next time he pushed into me, I dug my nails into his back again. Not for pain, however. This time, the pleasure I felt from John's moving inside of me was almost too much for me to handle. The next time, it felt even better. By the time he started to pick up speed, it felt so heavenly I cried out.

In that instance, I loved John Bender. Whether or not the feeling would last, I loved him then. I felt in his movements that he loved me too, even if only for that moment. Even John couldn't suppress the rough sounds coming from his mouth. With every movement it felt more and more spectacular, for both of us, it seemed. So I loved him. I loved him for making me feel this way.

Then, I felt something very peculiar, but very perfect happen within me: I peaked right as John did, and my inner muscles squeezed around him, producing a choking sound from him, and a squeaky whimpering sound from me. I held onto him tightly with all of my limbs before he collapsed onto me, sweaty and panting, just as I was.

I held him to me for a while. Neither of us said anything. His head lay on my chest, and I stroked his long hair absently. I realized that at no time had Vernon walked in to catch us. Allison, Andrew, and Brian had stayed in the library the whole time.

I believe that, if nothing else, I was meant to have given up my purity to John Bender, because he had been the one to point out to me and make me realize how impure I truly was in the first place. I can't say whether or not I was meant to be with John forever, but I did know I was meant to be with John at some point. I suppose Beau didn't know he was meant to be with a woman in Paris, but that's where he ended up. Rather than under the Eiffel Tower, I ended up under John Bender, which, to me, was just as beautiful. I had never seen a more physically and emotionally beautiful person than John. He was the only one of all five of us to realize and accept who he really was. He helped me. I would always admire him for that. I had to.

Even if just until we got dressed, I loved him.


End file.
